


Utujuyaku

by Army C (arh581958)



Series: #GallavichWeek [16]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Mafia, Ass-fingering, Clothed Sex, Day 2 - BadboyIan and NerdMickey, Filthy, Fingering, GW2017B, Gallavich, M/M, Rimming, Smut, Successful!Mickey, ass fucking, bent over the table
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 20:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12441219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C
Summary: “Stay away from the Gallaghers”; that’s what his mom always told him, “it’s better for you to not get mixed-up with people like that. They’re criminals, Mickey, it’s not safe.”That would have worked if one specific Gallagher could stay away from him.





	Utujuyaku

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gallavich Week 2017 B Day 2 - BadBoyIan and NerdMickey
> 
> Obviously an AU. Tried to make a sophisticated BadBoy!Ian (aka, he's in organized crime) and a Nerdy(but successful)!Mickey. Hope you like it!

_“Stay away from the Gallaghers_ ”; that’s what his mom always told him, “it’s better for you to not get mixed-up with people like that. They’re criminals, Mickey, it’s not safe.”

That would have worked if one specific Gallagher could stay away from him.

Now, Mickey Milkovich had always been an obedient boy. His family was the a living-and-breathing _American Dream_ —a white-collar suburban family; his father, Terry, was a mechanic and his mother, Chloe, was a teacher and all the their were a multitalented; Tony an award-winning cook, Collins a world-renowned violinist, Iggy a professional soccer player, Mandy a prima ballerina, and Mickey who was the smartest of them all. Mickey plowed through the district Quiz Bee finals for 3 years in a row. However, not even all that brainpower could keep him away from one Ian Gallagher.

Ian Gallagher was two years younger than Mickey. They, along with all the Gallagher and Milkovich kids, went to school together. He briefly went overseas to study university. When he came back from Ireland, it was no surprise that he by-passed his older siblings and took over the family business. Ian was smart in his own way—cunning, and devious, and years beyond his time. A few sort years after he began running the family, all their investments were legal—on paper, at least.

Mickey’s grown up to be successful too.

By the age of 28, he had already made his fortune trading in the stock market. His portfolio became legendary to finance scholars. He never had to work, if he so chose, but he also got bored easily. Hence, on his spare time, he operated an extremely exclusive private beach paradise on a small island in the heart of the Galapagos— _Utujuyaku_. 

 _Utujuyaku_ just so happened to be Ian Gallagher’s favorite vacation destination. He never failed to annoy Mickey when he came around.

“Hey, Mickey,” Ian said, the tip of his polished black leather shoe sliding across the sensitive skin on the outside Mickey’s bare shin for what felt like the millionth time. They were polar opposites—Ian in a three-piece charcoal suit while Mickey in his beachwear. Ian had rented the entire resort for the month. Granted that there was only five semi-private villas spread at equal distance around the island; most guests normally rented two or three at most.

Mickey kept it cool. Out here, he wore something casual—thin cotton button-ups, loose beach pants, and flip-flops. A pair of sun glasses lay atop the clear glass table which he used as a work desk. His office was a receiving area, sectioned-off from his actual house.

“Mr. Gallagher, isn’t there anything you want to do _aside_ from hanging around in my office all day? You have the whole island to yourself.”

Ian’s eyes darkened, corners sharpening. “Well,” he intoned, licking his lips seductively, “I _want_ to bend you over that fucking desk of yours until your begging to come.”

Mickey blushed.

Twenty year, they’ve been playing this game. He thought it was just Ian’s childish fascination—that it would have been gone and over by the time the younger man came back to the US, _if Ian ever came back_ , but it seemed to only grow despite the distance and absence. Ian came back—taller, bulkier, and keener than before. He came with all  laser-sharp determination aimed solely at Mickey.

“That’s… I’m afraid that’s impossible, Mr. Galla—”

“—Ian. I’d prefer you call me, Ian, Mick. Don’t pretend were strangers.”

Mickey shook his head. “I—Ian.”

“Good,” praised Ian, smiling. “Now, wasn’t that easy, Mick? Just like our good old days. How about we relive some of our best memories? I like the one when you had this cherry-red lips wrapped around my cock. I remember how your wyes watered when you got to eager and choked on it. That was your first time to try deepthroating, right? Has anyone else made your throat feel raw for days? Bet you’re thinking about that right now, huh, Mickey? Still remember how it felt?”

“That—that would be highly unprofessional,” Mickey choked out, biting his upper lip. The bitter-sweet tang of lemonade still remained. It felt degrees hotter than it was in reality, and sweat pooled in-between various creases on his body. I don’t take guests to my bedroom.”

Ian saw the action. He took a chance—leaning with his elbows on  the table and one hand reaching to cup Mickey’s face. “I never said anything about a bed. Here’s fine.”

Everything on the table was unceremoniously pushed aside. Mickey’s MacBook and tablet, a few pens and papers, and the Ray-Band aviators clattered to the carpeted floor.

Mickey clung onto Ian’s lapels, using it as leverage when he climbed over the tables, crisp under his hands. Glass felt cool under his knees and slippery with sweat. Ian pulled him closer until he was on the other side, climbing Ian like a palm tree. Desperate hands clutched Ian’s fiery red hair, silky strands between his fingers. Noses side by side. Their mouths sealed perfectly together. No inch spared between them.

Ian’s scent invaded his senses—musky, dark, and alluring. It went straight to his cock.

“Shit,” Mickey gasped when they parted for air 

Ian chuckled breathily, “yeah”, quietly.

“Do it,” Mickey said, pressing their foreheads together.

Ian has to blink passed his glassy eyes. “Huh? Whut?”

Mickey his bright red face on Ian’s shoulder. White-knuckled hands gripped Ian’s upper arms.

“Bend me over this desk.”

It took a full minute for Ian to fully comprehend the command. Once he did though, he manhandled Mickey into position—clothed chest on top of the slippery glass, shorts pulled down to thighs pressed onto the wooden frame, ass presented in the air—and dove right in.

Mickey groaned out loud, body shuddering, when the first wet swipe of Ian’s tongue touched his sensitive hole. It was sinful and dirty. His cock twitched in excitement where it was trapped between his stomach and the table. The soft white shirt clung to his sweaty skin, translucent-like to reveal his tanned skin. It outlined the curve of his spine to the base of his neck.

He had his face angled to the side, breathing open-mouthed.  A dark red blush painted his cheeks. His breath was heavy and even. The smell of his own sweat surrounded him. A hint of drool on the corner of his lips. His eyes were half-lidded. They fluttered shut when Ian started eating him out in vigor.

“Fu—Ian!” Mickey moaned as Ian’s hands pulled his ass-cheeks apart. He pushed into the pleasure, hands drifting to touch the back of Ian’s head, pulling the younger man deeper into his ass. His fingertips tingled as they rubbed Ian’s scalp. His hands slipped and fell but finally hooked around the nape. “Shit! That’s—that’s, yeah, like that, ahh-ahh!”

His tiny office filled with filthy sounds.

The wet slurp of Ian’s tongue.

The breathy gasps he made.

The table creaking under his weight 

Then, there was a loud gurgling sound before Mickey felt something slimy dip down between his cheeks. His blush travelled all the way to his chest 

“You—you spit on me!” He yelled in shock, scrambling back. “That’s—that’s preposterous! Why would you spit on me, you asshole? That’s disgu—”

“—the only lubrication you’re gonna get if you don’t shut up,” ian growled from behind him. Long pale hands tightened around Mickey’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises.

Then and there, Mickey realized that the sweet and innocent boy he once met years ago was gone and replaced with this scary version of a man—Southside’s most powerful crime boss.

If he so chose, Ian could end him in a blink of an eye. He had underlings in every branch of government—local and national, slowly building his network with each passing day. The Gallagher Clan was ten-fold what it was when they were children. It was lethal. They dealt with everything from cheap weed to owning casinos in Vegas. There was no where in America he could run—or even out of it. Ian followed him anywhere.

 _Thwak_!

Mickey let out a howl. Lighting hot pain throbbed like tidal wave from his right ass-cheek. Unmerciful teeth followed, biting at the tender flesh until there were teeth marks on the red area. His traitorous cock leaked more precum.

“You’re too far away!” Ian gritted, plunging two fingers into Mickey’s tight hole.

Mickey cried out, the sound like an animal in heat.

“What were you thinking about?” Ian snarled, fingers unrelenting and unforgiving. “You dare _think_ when I’ve got my fingers in your lewd hole? Your parents would have a heart attack of they see their baby boy writhing underneath me like one of my whores. That’s what you really are, Mick,” he licked the shell of Mickey’s ear, “ _mine_.”

Mickey’s whole body shivered at Ian’s worlds.

There was no way to deny that he was—and possibility, always have been—Ian’s.

“M—more,” he croaks out, voice raspy and broken. “Fuck, Ian, n—need more. G-g—get on me!”

Seconds later, the hot blunt tip of Ian’s cock lined-up with his entrance. Mickey tensed. Then, Ian was over him, crowding him onto the table. Their hands linked. Ian’s scent—old spice, thick and musky—flooded his senses. Everywhere was Ian—thighs behind his, chest against his back, arms bracketed around him, face tucked behind his ear, lips teasing the skin on his neck.

“Relax.” Ian’s flowed over him like sweet honey. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ll never hurt you, Mickey.” He said it like a promise of what was to come.

Mickey leaned back, angling his face so that he could press their lips together.

Ian tasted like the expensive brandy Mickey kept in his office. The older man would never admit he kept the alcohol solely for Ian—nor to any other privileges exclusive to the younger man. Ian new a the passcodes to his private out—has his biometrics in the security system. There was no way to lock him out, and Mickey didn’t want to.

“What are you thinking of?” Ian asked softly, half-lodged inti Mickey tight body.

Mickey let out a groan, ass pulsing involuntarily. “You,” he confessed, light-headed with what he felt. “Been thinking that I never want to be away from you.”

“Good.” Ian smiled into the next kiss, “because I’m never going to let you go, Mickey.”

The next thrust punched twin moans out of them both. Mickey, trapped under Ian’s longer body, could do nothing but squirm as the thick cock penetrated him. What a picture they made—Mickey’s shorter form, mostly clothed except for the shorts and underwear pulled down to his thighs, and Ian hovering above him, fully-dressed in a suit with only his cock drawn out. So different yet their connection was unmistakable.

Ian peppered kisses on Mickey’s neck.

“Fuck, I love you, Mick,” he whispered, soft and quiet like a secret.

Mickey froze, every single muscle locking up. His mother’s words came back to haunt him. What would he say? What could he do? He was powerless under Gallagher—weak in the knees while his body greedily _clutched_ the cock deep inside him. Fear came next—cold inside his veins. Every inch of skin buzzed. His brain rung in alarm; fight or flight.

As if Ian could hear him, the other man bit his ear lightly.

“Mick?” Ian’s voice was gentle.

What there any way to deny the feeling he’s long felt?

“I—I,” Mickey gripped Ian’s hand like a lifeline. “I do to—you.”

For the longest time, Ian didn’t react. Insecurities came rushing to Mickey’s head but then Ian burst in a fit of laughter.

“Yeah,” Ian let out boisterous laughter, “yeah, I know, Mick. I know.” Then, with renewed vigor, he restarted his powerful thrusts, bruising Mickey’s thighs with the edge of the table.

Mickey mewled in pleasure. Ian hit his pleasure spot with every thrust. It was blinding. He couldn’t think past the sensations clawing up his spine. He got lost in it—he drowned as wave after tidal wave of pleasure enveloped him. The whole world narrowed down to his face pressed against the cool glass and Ian’s heavy form above him.

“Touch me,” he whined because it was not enough. “Ian, please, my-my c-cock. Touch me, please.”

Mickey cried out and came the moment Ian brushed against his cockhead, painting his table in white strips.

They slumped together on Mickey’s chair—a large padded monstrosity that effortlessly cradled two grown men. Mickey collapsed on top of Ian with their arms crossed over his tainted stomach. His ass throbbed where they were still connected. Ian’s still thick and hard inside him, making him whine from over-sensitivity. He didn’t have any more energy to move.

“M—Mick,” Ian’s voice trembled, “Mick, can I…?”

“Move,” Mickey answered gruffly.

Ian’s arms tensed around him, then the red-head started to move—plundering Mickey’s abused hole like he had every right to be there. Maybe he did. Maybe Mickey gave it to him. None of that mattered.

Mickey welcomed the assault on his body. A spark of pleasure tingled inside him knowing that he’s the only one who has ever seen Ian Gallagher’s composure melt into nothingness. Ian came and filled him, ass brimmed with seed that trickled passed his loose ring of muscle. This, right here, is _his_ Ian—the one he had grown to love and cherish over the years. He’d never be able to stay away.

**Author's Note:**

> Please be nice~ One of the reasons why I love writing for this fandom is because of the feedback that I get. It doesn't have to be long or inspiring. I'm constantly trying to improve how I write—be it grammar, plot, or characters. I'd appreciate it. :) 
> 
> ***  
>  **If you have a prompt or an idea, you can[INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr. Or [TALK TO ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask)~**
> 
>  
> 
> **As always, **kudos/comments/bookmarks** are all appreciated by this author. I take comments as extra-kudos and I _do_ read the bookmark tags (some are really fun).**


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